The Last Ride
by luvofvamps
Summary: I thought I knew what I was doing when I started writing to him 4 years ago. I wanted to get to know the man who stole so much from me. Other than, what my Uncle Billy told me when I was a kid and what I could make out from his blacked out file. I thought I was safe. He was never getting out of prison.
1. Chapter 1

Please note, this is rated M. Be warned, it contains bad language and adult content.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters. However, I do own the rights to this story. You may not reuse it, rewrite it, or borrow it in any way, without my permission.

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I thought I knew what I was doing when I started writing to him 4 years ago. I thought I was trying to understand the man who stole so much from me. I wanted to know something other than what my Uncle Billy told me when I was a kid and what I could make out from his blacked out police files.

I thought I'd be safe. I thought I was safe. He was serving two life sentences for killing a police officer. The police chief of Forks, my father and he got another 15 years for the death of my mother. It was the harshest verdict they could give him, considering Folks doesn't believe in the death penalty.

In some ways I was thankful to him, he spared my life that night. He saw me at the top of those stairs. He knew I was there, he knew I saw him clear as day, but he still walked away. Maybe he didn't think a 12-year-old girls testimony would hold up in court. Maybe he thought I'd be to scared to say anything after seeing what he'd done to my parents, but none of that mattered because the day I was set to testify he changed his plea to guilty. Still, to this day, I don't understand why. He held his ground for 3 years and from what records I can get into at the station, there wasn't very much evidence against him.

I was never allowed in the courtroom. They said it was because I was going to testify and hearing other people's testimony could change my memory of the events that took place that night. I don't think any thing could ever change my memory of the events that night. It replays in my head like a movie on auto replay, how the devil with the smile of an angel brought hell to Forks.

CHAPTER 1

It's been 3 weeks since I received his last letter, 4 weeks since I last heard the horse crackle of his voice. Forks prison started sending back all my letters unopened about the same time. I know that the prison guards open and scan all letters before giving them to the inmates, so that means he's not receiving them.

I can't help but wonder If he's okay. Did his past finally catch up with him? Did one of the other clubs finally get a hold of him? If he's hurt or dead, should it matter? He hurt so many others, including me. Doesn't he deserve to be destroyed as well?

I know I shouldn't care, it's stupid, but I do and now my nights are left wondering. I long to hear his voice or maybe silence it.

Tonight's the annual Pack Tribal party. It's the one time when all of the packs come together, talk about new business ideas, swear in all new prospects and get completely shit faced. This year it's being held in Forks, and my uncle Billy, the President of the Wolf Pack insist that I attend.

Billy and my father, Charlie were best friends growing up. Billy and his son Jacob took me in after my Parent's death. Jacob was my best friend for most of my life, pretty much my only friend. Growing up on the reservation was nice, but diffidently wasn't easy. It wasn't until we gave into Billy's wishes and Jacob and I started dating that I thought it was best to move away from the reservation.

Jacob's not a bad guy, but he's changed a lot since joining up with the club. I always knew he would, his grandfather founded it. It was meant to be his one day. He's not covered in tattoos like the rest of the brothers. He just has the one large pack tattoo on his bicep that all Pack members have. He cut off his long hair shortly after becoming the club VP last year, but with the loss of his hair, his arrogance grew. Everything that was enough for him before wasn't enough anymore and that included me in some ways.

The heat of the bonfire mixed with the warmth of the whiskey tucked tightly between my thigs isn't helping me forget like I'd hope it would. It makes me think about it all far too much. Jacob, the Pack, my parents and him. The sound of his voice seeps through the loud crackle of the fire and the laughter that fills the air around me. What I imagine his skin would smell like bleeds into me, passed the smell of burnt wood, and I'm lost with his letters playing in my head.

 ** _"I always knew I would end up in a place like this. I never dreamed I would have the worlds of an angel like you to keep me company."_** His words play clear as day in my head.

 ** _"Can you write me more often? Just tell me about your day. Your letters make each day more bearable. I know I don't deserve easy, but I haven't needed anything as much as I need your words."_** His words never match the angry man I thought him to be, but then neither did his smile. He's always so soft-spoken, sweet, respectful, even when he's not.

"Bella, come on let me take you home." The smell of his skin fades away, and everything that is familiar becomes clear. Jacob's voice in my ear, his arms wrapped around me and lifting me from the huge log, I've been planted on the entire night.

I want to push him away. Tell him no, that I'm okay. However, I know I'm not, and we both know that I'd never do anything to tarnish my clean reputation. I worked hard to keep my name as clean as possible, as much as I love my father. The stories of him being a dirty Chief of police and in bed with the Pack will follow me forever.

"Let's go, I'll take you home," Jacob repeated. I liked him like this, this was the Jacob I loved, but I didn't say a word back because there's nothing to say. Nothing would change where we were at, I was tired of fighting with him. I walked away from him, over to his bike, and waited while he talked to his father.

Jacob throws one leg over his bike and hands me his helmet. This is the norm for us, minus the silence. He's always been the crazy one riding with no helmet, even when we were kids. He always said "your brain is worth more than mine." to this day, I don't think that's true. I think if Jacob put as much work into a real job or school. As he puts into his bike or the club, he'd go pretty far.

"You good," he asks as I side on to the back of his bike. Wrapping my arms and legs tighter than I'd like around his brood body. I nod my head against his back and let him know I'm good. Closing my eyes, I pretend in every way that he's someone else, someone that I shouldn't want him to be.

The ride to my house is a long quite one. I moved back to my parent's old house when I moved off the Reservation. Everyone thought it'd be weird but its comforting. My grandfather built that house for my grandmother. My father and his brother grew up there. I spent half of my life there. Every memory that I have with my parents is in the house, even the worst ones. I felt like as long as they were alive, I was alive.

Jacob's bike came to a stop at the top of the hill. My dark house sat almost as empty looking as the day I moved in. My dad's old bike sat covered in the driveway. Jacob had been working on it before the final fight started. Who would have thought with all the things we've done to each other, this would be the fight to end all battles.

I jumped off the bike and tossed Jacob's at him. Not so much as a thank you from me. But that didn't stop him from following me up the driveway to my front doorstep. Old habits die-hard, he always walked me to my door and waited for me to deadbolt the door before he'd walk back down to his bike. I don't know why. I'm a police officer. I carry a gun, but then so does he.

"Are you still writing to him?" Jacob, asks me, grabbing my arm before I can make my way into the house. This is why I prefer the silence. If I uttered a single word, he'd think it's okay to start this conversation all over again, and I was tired of this argument.

Three months ago Jacob was here working on my dad's bike. The plan was that after he fixed it, he'd teach me how to ride. I think this was like our hundredth time of maybe trying to give it another go.

 _ **Flashback**_ :

"Hey, Jack!" I yelled from the kitchen, "Want another beer?" Jacob was in the front driveway working on my dad's old bike. The kitchen is on the other side of the house but with these old houses, the sound carries, and you can usually hear a whisper from any room in the house. So, I was surprised when he didn't respond, Jacob never says no to beer or pizza.

"Jacob!" I yelled again "I asked if you wanted a beer?" I made my way through the house, and when I got to the front living room and looked out the front window, I knew why he wasn't answering me. He was sitting in my old red beat up Chevy with my newest letter in his hand. I'd just picked it up from the P. and hadn't even had a chance to finish reading it when Jacob pulled into the driveway this afternoon.

Jacob's eyes met mine through the cracked window of my Chevy, and I could see the vein in his head pulsating. "What the fuck is this?" He screamed at me, throwing himself from the truck before slamming the door.

The letter crumpled tightly in his hand. I hadn't even gotten to read it, so I wasn't sure what the letter said. Some letters he just tells me about his day, in others he talks about his past, his wife and in some, he tells me what he dreams of.

I ran out of the house and down the driveway as fast as I could. "It's not what you think, Jacob," I reached for the letter, but no matter how many self-defense classes I've taken there was no way I was getting it away from him. "It's part of an investigation into the Fangers. It's not even addressed to me." The lies kept on coming but they were still lies, and he knew it because he had read the letter and if anyone had read any of our letters they'd know I wasn't investigating anything.

"Okay, Marie." Marie wasn't the best fake name because it wasn't even a fake name. It was my middle name. Jacob knew that, and anyone who had access to the police files knew that, including him.

"So what, I used my middle name. I told you it's part of an investigation." I reach for the letter again but instead, Jacob holds it up above my head and starts reading it and I'm dead where I stand.

 ** _"Tomorrow when I call you. Can you touch yourself? Don't tell me when you're doing it. Don't do it right away but talk to me the whole time. I want to hear the change in your voice. I want to learn everything about you, without you telling me. I want to imagine that I could make those changes…."_ **I ripped the letter from his hand. That was private, that was mine, and he had no right to read it. What was he doing going through my truck anyways?

Jacob pushed me against the truck. "Why him? You like killers, cause I'm a killer as well Bella." He said before pushing his mouth against mine. "Do you need me to take from you like he did?" He said trying to move his mouth down my neck. I did my best to push him off.

"Jacob, stop!" I yelled pushing and screaming at him.

"What's the matter, not the right kind of monster for you?" He said dropping me back to the ground and walking away.

 **Present** :

"No," I answered. The memory of that day fading into the background. I didn't want him to believe that his tantrum that day had anything to do with it but I always didn't want him to know that he stopped writing to me and that something possibly happen to him.

"No?" He asked me again, grabbing my wrist tighter before I could pull away.

"No, he's not writing me anymore." It hurt to say it out loud, but I said it. It was done, and I'm hoping this argument is done as well. I pulled my arm away, slammed the door, dead bolted it and sank to the floor to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

This is going to be a quick update. I'm trying to decide between quick short chapters, that way I'm posting everyday or longer chapters were I still to get writers block.

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I wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of my grandmother's rocking chair softy rocking in the corner of my room. Even after my eyes come into focus, the room is still dark, and it's hard to make anything out. There's diffidently a strong coffee aroma filling the room and a cool breeze coming from my open bedroom window.

It dawns on me that I never opened my bedroom window and I never brought myself up to bed. I reach for the bedside light, knocking into a hot cup of what I assume is coffee, and I quickly turn on the lamp. My heart is pounding, but the room is empty.

The rocking chair still as night, but there is indeed a hot cup of coffee sitting on my bedroom nightstand. Perhaps a peace offering from Jacob after last night's fiasco. He probably came back to check on me and found me curled up by the door where I had cried myself to sleep.

If you ever wanted to kidnap me or adult-nap me. You could simple write "FREE COFFEE" on the side of a big white van with no windows, and I'd jump in. I do just that today. I pick up the coffee cup without thinking twice about it. I take a sip, and it's perfect. Just the way I like it, two sweet n lows and the perfect amount of almond milk, Diffidently Jacob. No one else knows my coffee like he does or that's what I thought until I look down and see that a small handwritten note has fallen off the bottom of the cup.

" _ **You're going to be late for work, Bell."**_ I'd know the writing anywhere, I've studied it for almost 4 years. It's the Bell that's throwing me off. Only my dad called me Bell.

I quickly throw the blankets off and fly to get my gun, hanging from my gun belt on the bed post. I check to make sure it's loaded, and run to the open window. Poking my head out. It's a long way down, and no one's climbed in it since I was 10 and my dad cut down the tree that stood in front of it, after finding Jacob sleeping on my bedroom floor because his mom had left them.

I dart to the closet and then stick my head out my bedroom door. I know I should head down and check the first floor, but I don't. I head back to my bed instead and pull up the loose floorboard at the end of my bed. I don't really need to check. I'd know his elegant handwriting anywhere, but I grab the shoebox full of letters anyways. Pulling out the first one. I yanked it from the neatly kept envelope and dive across my bed trying to find the note that I held minutes ago.

I can't find it, I'm yanking all the blankets off the bed because I know it's there. I'm starting to think it was my imagination when it slowly floats to the ground, as do I. I crumple both letters in my hand, the writing is an exact match. What does this mean? Why Bell? How is he here? Why is he here?

From the corner of my eye, I see yesterdays uniform in a pile on the floor, and I'm up and yanking it on. I shove the letters in my front pocket. Toss my hair in a ponytail and grab my gun belt and gun. I give the coffee on the nightstand a quick glance and say what the hell. If he wanted me dead, he could have killed me in my sleep last night, instead of making me coffee, and I can think of worse ways to died then coffee.

I grab the coffee, chugging it as I run down the stairs. I give the house a once-over, everything seems to be in order and locked. I scrabble around the house looking for my cruiser keys, chugging down as much coffee as I can. I find the keys, drop the coffee mug on the table and I'm out the door. Let just hope I don't have to do any real police work today because I reek like old whiskey and I didn't even brush my teeth.

I spend as much of my shift as I can out in the cruiser. I tell the Chief that I'm handling some complaints about yesterday's party on the reservation. It's a good lie because we always get a tone of complaints when the outer city pack members roll into town. Usually noise complaints because off all the bikes, and most of the time there's nothing we can do about it because it happened on tribal land.

My mind is on anything but work. So, I park my cruiser just outside the reservation and try to figure something out, anything.

How is he out? Did he escape? I go over my calls to the prison in my head over, and over. They just said they could only give out information to his family or persons on his emergency card. When I told them I was a police officer, they said they needed all my force information. Along with a report as to why I needed to know the inmate's whereabouts.

Two life sentences, plus 15 years. With time served for the 3 years, that he was fighting the charges. He's only been incarcerated for 14 years. I know that's a long time, but it's nothing close to the 65-year sentence. Even if he was a model prisoner, with good behavior that's still not even close to enough time served.

"Bell…" why Bell and if he's here for Bell why didn't he just kill me last night? Why wake me up and make sure I'm not late for work?

My head is pounding, and I can't think anymore. I close my eyes and jump when there's a light tapping on my driver window. "Jeez Jacob," I yelp. "What the hell? You scared the crap out of me."

I roll down the window, and Jacob sticks his head inside. "Wow Bella, ever heard of a shower? You stink like the bottom of a whiskey barrel."

"Yeah well, I didn't sleep much and rolled out of bed late." Which wasn't all true. I slept great, apparently so well. I didn't want to get up this morning. It still didn't help my hangover though.

He reaches in and puts his hand over mine. "I'm sorry about that, about last night, and about what's happened in all the time between now and then."

I don't know what to say. It would have been nice to hear months ago. It's hard hearing it now, and I feel like he's only doing it because I'm no longer corresponding with the enemy. In the 4 years that I was writing him, I never let it affect how I felt about Jacob, and I never crossed the line when Jacob and I were involved. Jacob was the one who continuously had me like a yo-yo.

"You know Jake," It feels like forever since I've called him that. "That would have been nice to hear months ago, weeks ago, maybe even days ago, but for some reason today it just means nothing." I pull my hand away from his.

I can remember a time when we were best friends when I could tell him anything. He would have been the one person I would have told this secret too. The only person I would have trusted. He would have been the one person who would have understood it because he got me. It's funny how sex and power change things. Now, in his world, everything is about power, and this took away a piece of his power.

I don't wait for Jacob to pull his arms out of the cruiser, I pop the car into drive and step on it. Hoping to take off a foot or a hand, I look in the rear view only to see he escaped unharmed. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I slam my palm against the steering wheel, as I drive away. "Why didn't you just fucking kill me too?" My head drops against the steering wheel as I come to a stop a stop sign, and I ball my eyes out, screaming, and yelling at him, at Jacob, at my parents, at all of them.

I determine that I'm done for the day, I call into the station, and the chief has already left to have dinner with his family. I drive to the station and double check that the deputies on duty will be okay with me cutting out a little early. They're young kids. Quil knows all about the party at the reservation last night, he was there. Before his dad passed away he was part of the pack. I let him know if they need anything to call me, and he assures me that he's cool with it.

I hit the file room for the hundredth time in the last 6 years and grab all the usual files. Only this time I snatch Victoria's file as well. It's the one file I've never brought myself to look at. Victoria was Emmett's wife and my father gunned her down in the line of duty. Almost 15 years ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Victoria was the first thing that Emmett really opened up to me about, and the letters about her lasted for months. It seemed so easy for him. Maybe that's what made it easy for me. I thought it was the loneliness of incarceration and needing something to fill his time. I was sure I wasn't the only pen pal he had. It's a big thing writing to men in prison, usually on death row.

Nonetheless, I felt like we were always an open book with each other. I never lied about anything other than my name, even that wasn't very much of a lie. However, I also never gave away so much that he'd know who I was.

I never wanted to know what she looked like. I didn't want to know what kind of women he was into. I was afraid I wouldn't compare. Looking at her now, her pictures spread out on my living room floor. I can see why it was so easy for him to talk to me about her. She was striking. Her pale white skin and bright red hair. I'm glad he never asked for a photo, always insisting that looks didn't matter. He said a picture would only make things harder. I'd thought all guys in prison wanted something pretty to look at, but he said the sound of my voice and daily letters were all he needed.

" _ **Can I call you sometimes? I'd love to hear your voice.**_ _ **Your letters aren't enough anymore**_ _ **. That's not what I meant, I mean they don't come often enough. I need a little of you spread throughout the day. I need the sound of your voice to pick me up, to hear it and know that you're out there, breathing, living. Will make the nights so much easier."**_

I didn't think twice about it. The next day I went and bought a pre-paid and sent him the number. I slowly become more addicted to his calls then his letters. Wishing I could pick up the phone and call him when I was having a bad day like he could me. I thought that talking to each other on the phone would give us fewer things to write about, but I felt our letters just got longer. One call a week became one a day then two a day. He'd always call right before lights out to make sure I was home and safe. I guess that's when I knew something was wrong. When he missed the first lights-out call.

Looking down at the picture of the two of them in my hand, it hurts. They were entwined with each other, her head on his chest, his face in her hair. It hurt to look at, to know that she had him first, that if she were still here they'd be together now, and it hurts to know that if Victoria were still here, my parents might be as well.

" _ **I was 16 when I met her. I was on my first ride out with my old man. We were meeting up with the President of the Nomad Fangers. My old man wanted them to patch over to Forks. I remember seeing her the moment I pulled my bike into the shop. With her big red hair and green eyes, there was no missing her."**_ He wrote telling me about the first time he met Victoria. " _ **I turned straight to my pops and told him, no one gets her, she's mine. She saw me pointing at her, she giggled under her big red curls. I was done. I did everything I could for the next 4 years to keep her."**_

He'd tell me stories about how he'd drive all over the state to see her, her father was a nomad and they never stayed in one place long. Usually, because they caused so much trouble, they were ran out by the local police. It wasn't until 3 years later when her father let them marry after his past caught up to him and he went to jail.

I toss the photo of them on the floor next to all the others. There were so many pictures of the two of them in Victoria's police file, it made my stomach turn. I lay my head back on the couch and try to wipe the thought of them from my mind. I wonder if he knew, she'd turned on him, and his brothers. That she was working as an informant for my dad, to stay out of jail after he busted her for heroin. I just don't understand why my dad ended up shooting her, it doesn't make sense. Her file says it was a drug bust gone wrong, but if she was working with Forks Police. Why would she have run, why did she pull out a gun?

Did he know she had a drug problem? He never once mentioned it. He always talked about her like she was perfect. Maybe he wasn't as honest as I thought. Were we both only telling half-truths?

I pick up my dad's file. Like Emmett's file, there's a lot of information that was blacked out after the trial. The district attorney was set on the theory that Emmett killed my parents in retaliation for his wife's death.

The police didn't find any fingerprints on the bullets, Emmett did have traces of gun powder on his hands and clothes. It didn't matter thou because both my parents died from a broken neck. Shooting my father after was just insult to injury. My dad put up a good fight. I remember hearing it from my bedroom. It was what woke me up that night. I remember hearing the pictures crash to the floor, the sound of all the broken glass as they walked over it.

My mom didn't really know what was coming. Her file says he pulled her out of bed, most likely to get my dad's attention. Wanting my father to see her die, he snapped her neck in front of him. She was the first dead body I'd seen up close. Her limp body on the bedroom floor, where they disregarded her like trash.

I understood right away that she was gone, my dad had been a cop my whole life. As much as he tried to leave his work at the office, sometimes he'd bring home a document or two, and I always snuck a peek. Forks might be a small town, but we tend to be a bloody one.

Something catches my eye, the name on the bottom of my mom's death certificate. It says, Chief Uley. Sam wouldn't have been chief by then, the town has to vote. My dad had just died. There was no way he was already chief. I drop my mom's file and pick up my dad's, and Chief Uley is the filing officer as well on his. How had I never noticed that?

There's a quick knock on my back door, and then it's open. "Bella!" Jacob yells. What the hell is he doing here? Didn't I make it clear this afternoon that I didn't want to talk to him? I'm scrambling to pick up all the files, but they're spread out everywhere.

"What the fuck Jacob?" I yell as he burst into the living room, "What if I was naked or not alone?" His eyes go straight to the pictures now wallpapering my floor.

"Are you alone?" He's screaming, rushing from room to room like he would do when we were kids playing hind and go seek. "Is he here? Obviously, you know he's out." He says bending and picking up one of the pictures of Emmett of Victoria.

"No…He's not here, and no I didn't know he was out. I mean not really." Wait, how does Jacob know he's out. I work for the government, and I couldn't even get confirmation. "How do you know he's out?" I ask Jacob.

"Billy told me." Jacob hasn't referred to his father as dad or anything like that since he became the VP. "There's a lot of shit going on Bella that you don't know anything about."

Jacob stood in the middle of my crime scene wonderland, "what the fuck is this Bella?" He lifts the picture that he's holding in his hand. "Are you obsessed with this guy?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I think one might say I am but I think I'm obsessed with the man who's been writing me. Not the man who murdered my parents because I don't feel like they are one in the same, and right now I'm a little worried. He called me Bell in my note this morning. He came to the house where he killed my parents. He's here for the little girl he left behind, not the young woman who's been writing him.

"No," I tell Jacob and pulp myself down on the couch preparing myself for the blowup Jacob is about to have. "He was here this morning, he …"

"What the fuck Bella? The man who murdered your parents was here in your house this morning, and you just go to work like it's any other day and you don't tell Billy or me?" That vein on his forehead is pulsating. "Go upstairs and get a bag, you're staying on the res until we find him." Jacob yanks me off the couch and pushes me towards the stairs.

"I am not!" I'm a grown woman, a big girl, I carry a gun, and no man is going to tell me what to do. "Jacob I have to work in 5 hours." Even thou I didn't work the next day. "I'll sleep with my gun next to my bed, lock all the windows and doors and I'll call if I hear anything at all."

Jacob doesn't budge, "He's here for you. There's no other reason for him to be here. We ran all the other Fangers out of town years ago. Now, let's go."

"If he wanted me dead he would have killed me last night after you left." Jacob's face turns every shade of red I can think if from the crayon box. I'm not even sure if he was here when Jacob dropped me off but somethings it feels good to make him hurt. "or this morning."

I learned a long time ago the best way to get Jacob to leave me alone was to piss him off, the guy doesn't know how to deal with his anger. He's been running away from it for far too long, and that's what he does. Storming out the back door from which he came. I never hear his bike start, so I know he's not leaving and in some ways that puts me at ease.

I lay the rest of the way down on the couch and crash, tomorrow is another day.


	4. Chapter 4

When I wake, I'm not on the couch again, but tucked tightly into bed. The soft rocking of my grandmother's chair once again coming from the corner.

"Is that him?" I hear his crisp raspy voice coming from the corner. I'm afraid to look at him, scared that he'll disappear or that I'll wake up and he'll have never really been here. I can hear him moving, taking steps but they don't seem to be coming closer to me, more like he's pacing. Then it stops.

I finally prop myself on my elbows and look over towards him, he didn't vanish. He's staring out the window at what I assume to be Jacob. I was sure that he stayed in my truck last night because I never heard his bike come to life after our fight.

"Is that who?" I asked, I knew whom he was talking about if he was indeed staring out the window at Jacob. I told him all about him, I never used his name, but I never lied to Emmett about my outside life. I wish I could have been as honest with the outside world as I was with him.

When I first started writing Emmett. I had been trying to make things work with Jacob. I'd like to think that Emmett had something to do with us not being together anymore, but that'd be a lie. The club came between Jacob and I a long time ago. I just stuck it out to long.

I didn't like being an old lady, even before I became a cop. I thought it was degrading and was starting to understand why Jacob's mom left all those years ago. The men do as they please, the women stay quite as long as they never have to see it.

I wasn't that lucky. It was thrown in my face when a honey from another crew followed Jacob home pregnant with his kid. They're not together, and they both say it was just the once. Jacob was on a run, and he was staying at another tribes place. They offered her, and it would have been a sign of disrespect if he didn't except.

He blamed me at first. Because I refused to be tagged an old lady. He said it left him open to invitations that he couldn't turn down. That was just one of many times things that drove a wedge between us. Jacob is big on lashing out when things don't go his way.

"Nevermind, I don't want to know. I just got out of prison. I don't need to go back." He collapses back into the rocking chair like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"What's one more murder?" I tell him. "That's what you're here for, to finish what you started all those years ago?" Why else would he be here and I'm not scared. For some reason dying by his hands doesn't frighten me. It's like that's how it should have been, to begin with, it's not as if I'm living much of a life anyways. I think it will bring me peace after all the most alive I've felt is when I'm thinking of or talking to him. It seems poetic, I'll die right where I should of by the same man that I now daydream about.

"If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it anytime over the last 3 weeks." He sits forward in the chair, placing his elbows on his knees. I can see him entirely for the first time. No longer the young babyfaced man that I remember from 14 years ago. He's aged as have I and I hope he doesn't see that little 12-year-old girl when he looks at me.

His jaw is more chiseled, hidden under a full face of hair. His hair now cut short, no more is the long hair that I remember. His bare arms, far more fuller and covered in tattoos and what looks to be scars.

However, when he looks at me, the smile is still that of an angel. I'm sure somewhere under that face of hair, his dimples are dancing. I can't stop watching him.

"Is this really the life you've been living, Bell?" He moves from the chair and into the darkness of my unlit room. I don't like this. I can't see him, I can't read him.

"You have to go back." I push the blankets off and make my way off the bed. "If Jacob finds you here it will be bad." I make my way towards him, I need to see his face, look at his eyes.

His back is towards me. I can only see so much of him in the dark mirror, but he looks like he's in pain. "Bell don't." He says right when I'm about to reach for him and I freeze. "I've been behind bars a really long time, and I'm starting to think this was a mistake."

I'm hurt that he thinks that coming to see me is a mistake, that he's pulling away from me. "I have to report that you're here to the Chief." I reach past him to my cell phone, as if that's what I intended to do the whole time. Everything in me hopes that he stops me, that he reaches out and grabs my wrist, grabs me, stops me. But he doesn't, he just lets me pick up the phone.

"Do you really think I escaped?" He says turning on me. His standing tall now, towering over me. He's so much bigger than I remember. He comes a few steps closer and I think he might actually touch me. "What'd you think, that I broke out of prison 14 years later, to kill you? Or how about that I needed Marie so bad, I broke out of jail to be with her in every way that we talked about?" with that one he takes another step closer. "How about this one, I fell completely in love with Marie. Only to find out I was being lied to the whole time by Bell. The girl I let live?"

My stomach is doing cartwheels. As Emmett takes another step closer, my brain is screaming at the rest of my body to react but I can't. I didn't give option three a test. I didn't think about how he'd feel when he found out who I really was. I'm afraid to say anything, afraid he'll hear the arousal in my voice after all those nights on the phone with him, touching myself to the sound of his voice.

"Why?" He asks, walking past me and everything from my waist now is screaming, no don't walk away.

Emmett sits on my bed. "Why did you write to me?" He's got the same are you sick look that Jacob gave me when he found out. "Why would you share so much with the man you believe killed your parents?"

I can't answer him because I don't know why. I tell myself it was to understand him, but now I'm more confused about myself than anything. I'm I sick, obsessed? I what towards him, and see him tense up. I take a set on the chest that sits at the end of my bed. "If you didn't break out of prison, how are you here? How are you out?"

"You're not safe," was how he responded. Was I not safe because of him? Was he here because I wasn't safe or is he saying I'm crazy and it's not safe for him to be here.

"I've never felt safer," and if he couldn't hear the arousal dripping from that comment, I didn't know what else to do. I looked down and over my shoulder at him. I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

"Well, you shouldn't," he stands from the bed. "Dumb shit outside was right, you need to go stay at the reservation with Billy and the rest of the Pack." He was in my closet, pulling clothes from the hanger and tossing them into my large police bag.

"What the fuck?" How did he know Jacob asked me to go stay at the res? Was he here last night when Jacob came barging in? Was he here the whole time while I was going through his wife's case file, and talking to myself?"

"No!" I yell at him reaching for the duffle bag, I miss catching his arm and we both freeze. It's the first time I've touched him, and I can feel the tension in his body. It's like electricity is running through his veins.

"I'm not going to the res, I'm not scared of you." If he could hear my heart pounding in my chest, he might think I was lying, but it has nothing to do with fear. "I'm not leaving."

"Isabella please…" The way he says it, I can hear the pain in his voice. "I can't keep you safe and be this close to you at the same time. I need a clear head."

I drop my hand from his arm, and he continues to fill the duffle bag with enough clothes for me to live on the reservation for a year. He lets out a deep sigh and opens the top drawer to my dresser. "I can do it," I tell him as he stares down at my drawer full of under clothes.

"Fuck!" He shouts and slams his fist against my dresser, rocking it back and forth. "You need to stay up here and finish packing. We have comp…." Before he can finish the sentence, I can hear what sounds like a half a dozen bikes driving up my hill. Great, all I nee is my neighbors complaining about the motorcycles this early in the morning.. "Dumb shit outside must of called his dad."

Where is he going? He can't just walk out the front door to a half a dozen pack members. I grab everything in the draw and toss it in the bag. I know that no matter what goes down right now no one will be letting me stay in this house tonight. I'm not even out of my room and I can already here Jacbob and Emmett yelling at each other.

"Is this what you call keeping her safe?" I hear Emmett say. Safe, safe from what? I'm shocked when I peek over the handrail and see Emmett and Billy sitting across from each other in the living room talking like old friends. Jacob is standing in the doorway along with Chief Uley like they are watching for someone or something.

I sit at the top of the stairs, hiding behind the rails just like I did that night all those years ago. I'm so confused. Everyone looks completely okay with what is going on right now, minus Jacob who looks like he'd like to crawl out of his skin.

"You have no clue what she's like," Jacob adds his two cents on who I assume to be me.

Emmett leaps over the couch and has Jacob pinned against the door right in front of Chief Uley, and he's not doing anything to stop it. "Maybe if you kept your fucking dick in your pants she wouldn't be as much of a pain in the ass to you." Thank you, I think that is him defending me. If calling me a pain in the ass is defending me.

"We've always done our best to protect her." Billy states from the coach, he also doesn't make a move to help Jacob. "What happened between Jacob and Bella, is between them. We never interfered there." No, they didn't interfere, but It didn't help that they were always pushing us together. "It's not easy when only a handful of people know the truth."

"Emmett, let the kid go." Chief Uley said as calmly as could be. "We've kept her safe. We always have eyes on her." What does he mean they always have eyes on me? Is my whole life a lie? Am I only a cop so Sam can watch me? Did they push Jacob and I together to keep tabs on me?

Emmett's eyes meet mine, just like that night when I was a kid. Hiding behind the guard rails. He released his death grip on Jacob's neck,and he fell to the floor coughing and holding his throat.

"Just keep her on the Reservation until I find James." He looks straight at me, "Can you do that?" I know the question is for them but at the same time, it's directed at me. Like he's telling me to stay put.

"What does your brother in law have to do with this?" I remember Emmett writing to me about him. He really didn't say much, just that he moved here with Victoria. He refused to patch over to Forks and was a bit of a hot head. Other than that, I didn't know anything about him. I've never known him to be in town, and I didn't even think to pull up his police record.

The Police records, when I fell asleep, they were spread all over the floor. I slowly walk down the stairs, Emmett's eyes don't move from me. Where are they? What did he do with them? I slowly eye the room, looking for them, but I don't see them anywhere.

"There's nothing in them that you don't already know," Emmett says to me as I walk past him. He knows what I'm looking for. I just need to know where they are so I can return them before Sam finds out I stole them again and maybe I can steel James' file at the same time.

"How long have you all been buddy, buddy?" I ask. My arms flailing around at the room of conspirers.

"Oh, we're not buddy, buddy." Jacob saying rubbing his throat. "I didn't know anything about this jack ass until 10 minutes ago and I'll be happy once this asshole is far, far away, and everyone is back where they belong." What does that mean? Will Emmett go back to Jail? He said they let him out. Was it just to find his brother in law?

"Then what?" I ask. I don't understand, and I feel like I'm being left in the dark on propose. "What happens after you find James? You go back to jail?" I ask Emmett. "You and I go back to playing house in our fucked up little world?" I shout at Jacob. "Why do I have to hide? What does James have to do with me?" But the room is silent. "Can you talk to me?" I ask Emmett as he moves closer to the door.

"Billy will explain everything to you." He says and looks over at Billy who gives him a head nod.

"Wait!" I shout, "Please."

"Bella!" Jacob yells, and Emmett turns and gives him a death glare.

"Keep him the fuck away from her." He points a long thick finger at Jacob.

"That's going to be a little hard to do." Jacob smiles, still rubbing his neck. He looks over at me. "Since we're going to be living together again." He winks and his smile grows fifty times bigger. Jacob, moved back into Billy's after Leah showed up pregnant. He didn't want to live with her, and he also didn't want her living with Billy, since that was my place as well. So, he moved her into his place. I know he can't be that happy about sharing a confined space with me. However, by the look at his face, it brought him nothing but joy to rub it in Emmett's face.

Billy threw Emmett a pair of keys. "Be gentle with her," Billy tells Emmett, he nods and walks out the door and just like that he was gone.

"I'm riding with you," Billy says. He walks out the front door and straight towards my truck, tossing my duffle bag in the back.

I look over at my police cruiser. "What about work?" I shout. I can't just miss work, people will start to talk, they will ask questions. I see Sam get into his car and everything starts to become just a little clearer. Sam's signature on my parent's death certificates. Him being the lead on their case.

I lock up the house and get in the truck. I'm all ready for the "What were you thinking speech" from Billy, but that's not what I get.

"He didn't do," Billy tells me. He places his hand on mine. "He was a good kid. I don't know what prison might have beaten out of him, but he was a good kid, and all he cared about was protecting what was left of your dad." He meant me, he was protecting me.


	5. Chapter 5

Please note last night I relieved chapter didn't fully load. It was updated hours later, you may need to go back and reread chapter 4.

I spend a lot of time talking with Billy. He filled me on the critical stuff and says that some things aren't his stories to tell. He won't tell me where Emmett is or how to get in touch with him. I just want to say to him that I know it wasn't him that killed my parents, and thank him for doing his best to protect the little girl he saw hiding upstairs, but Billy's not giving an inch.

The days on the reservation are long and drawn out. No one is budging on allowing me to leave the reservation unsupervised, which pretty much means I don't get to leave the reservation because no one wants to go anywhere with me.

I do my best to avoid Jacob, which considering we live under the same roof has been relatively easy since he hasn't been around much. Except for to

day, Jacob is on babysitting duty.

Billy had to go take care of something out of town. No one will tell me why or where Jacob had taken off to either, but I'm assuming it has to do with the Jame. Since they both took a dozen pack members with them when they blew out of town.

I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here and I'd like to put an end to this war between Jacob and I. So, I decided to build a bridge.

"Jacob," I knock on his bedroom door. I thought about making a run for it while he was in the shower, but poor Seth is standing guard outside like his life depends on it, and I'd hate to get the prospect in trouble.

"It's open," Jacob hollers from behind the closed door. I open the door and quickly close it. Jacob was standing bare-chested in nothing more than a white towel. His once bare chest now covered in a large number of tribal tattoos. How long as it been since I've seen him naked. Has it really been that long since we've been together?

"Can you put some clothes on?" I bellowed from the other side of the door. I really want to try to make this work, and Jacob is already making it difficult.

He opens the door, still dressed in nothing but a towel. "Why Bella? It's nothing you haven't seen before." Jacob flexed every muscle in his chest.

He was wrong. There was a whole lot of him that I hadn't seen before. His chest danced, and I knew he had caught me staring. If Jacob was one thing, it was nice to look at. His dark skin complemented his tone body, which seemed to have grown five times bigger overnight. Looking at him now, he looked grown. More than half his body covered in tattoos, oddly his arms still bar, minus his pack tattoo.

A new, very fresh long scar runs from his hip up his torso. "What's this?" I'm shocked to see him scarred. I no longer see his nakedness, and my fingers go to the wound. He bows his head and watches my fingers dance on the outskirt of his cut.

"You smell good," he says his head nuzzling into my hair as he twirls a strand in-between his fingers. "Like strawberry's and sunshine," he tucks his head in closer to my neck.

"Jake stop," I beg him. This has always been my weakness. We never knew how to communicate this is how we dealt with everything. That's why I moved off the res. If not I don't think Jacob and I would ever leave the room because if we weren't doing this, we were at each other's throats.

"Why?" He asks, his breath tickling my ear. "it's nothing new, nothing we haven't done before." He was right, and usually, I would do it, I'd jump right in, kill time. Even though I know five minutes later, we would be at each other's throat. However, this time I can't do it. "Is it him?" Jacob nuzzles the other side of my neck, his lips don't touch me. He's waiting for me to give in.

It wasn't him was it, right? I mean, I know that Billy explained everything to me. He told me how he didn't kill my parents, how James did it. The second voice from that night has started to seep through in my dreams, and now I remember that Emmett wasn't alone. But, that doesn't mean I wanted something more with him, does it?

"It wasn't him," I say before Jacob's lips touch my neck. "He didn't do it."

"I know, Billy filled me in that day I found you sleeping in your car on the res." He moves away from me. He grabs a t-shirt from one of the draws and tugs it over his head.

"But you came to my house that night?" I'm on Jacob, poking him in his chest. "You told me he was coming for me."

"Look its no secret I don't like the guy." Jacob drops the towel right in front of me, and my eyes try to look anywhere but down. He pulls on his pants and slowly buttons them, tightening his abs more than needed. "I don't know anything about the guy. Just because Billy rambles some crap about him doesn't mean a thing to me." He sits down on the bed and tugs one boot on and then the other. "All I know is you're not safe around him."

"How do you know that?" I ask. How does he know I'm not safe around him.

"Because he told us," Jacob states, raising from the bed. He leans in a bit closer. Why, why would he say I'm not safe around him? Jacob walks out of his room and into mine. "It doesn't matter he's not allowed on the reservation so as long as you're here, you're safe. Where are your truck keys?" He's rummaging through the things on my nightstand.

"Why?" I ask him, my arms crossed over my chest. Jacob built the truck for me practically from the ground up, he wasn't getting her back now.

"Look, I promised you a few months back that I'd fix your dad's bike and teach you how to ride it." He looks down at the wooden keychain hanging off my truck keys that he'd carved from an old piece of drift old. "You're here, and we have nothing but time to kill. I thought we'd go get it and …., " Before he can finish I'm in his arms and hugging him tightly. This man. Is the one I remember, the one who was always looking for a way to make me smile.

"Unless you'd rather me take you back to the bedroom?" I look at him shocked, was I really that easy to sway. "Then I think you should get down." He says, and I slide down Jacob's body. I can feel just how hard ever each of him is. I turn the corner and head for the truck. Excited, to start working on my dad's bike again, and even more excited to possibly have my best friend back.

I don't have a radio in the truck, so the ride is pretty silent. "What did you mean, he's not allowed on the reservation?" I ask Jacob, trying to kill the silence. I'm sure Emmet's not the best subject right now, but what's he going to do, leave me on the side of the road?

"He's a Fanger," he says it like that should answer all my questions. "Fangers aren't allowed on tribal land." I don't understand. With all the time I spent on the reservation, I saw plenty of other crews on tribal land. It's not like it was a sacred place.

"Is that just a Fanger thing?" By the time I knew anything about bikers, their crews, and what they were really about The Fangers were already long ran out of town.

"Yes, It's just a Fanger thing and other crews like theirs." This looked like something Jacob either couldn't or didn't want to talk about, but that didn't stop the police officer in me.

"What do you me like theirs?" I turned towards him in the seat and put my feet on his legs, nudging him to give me more information. "is their club really so different from yours?"

"Yes," Jacob looks at me like he'd offended. "They do things that hurt people Bella."

I laughed out loud at him, "Jacob how many people have you hurt o killed?" I quickly put my hand up. "Wait, don't answer that. I'm an officer of the law, and I don't want to know." I pull my feet back away from him and tuck them under my arms.

"It's not the same thing," he says. "We don't do things the affect our town, out reservation. Everything we do is to make our people's lives better. We don't poison them to line our own pockets."

I think back to Victoria's file and how hard my dad was working to get the drugs out of Folks and how much fewer drug bust we've had over the years. Maybe he's right maybe that did have something to do with the Fangers.

When we arrive at my house, Jacob makes tells me to stay in the truck while he loads the bike. I want to run in the house and look for the police files that Emmett grab. So, I make an excuse that I need to hit the restroom before we drive back and that I needed to grab something anyway since we were here.

Jacob insists on going in and checking the house first and follows me to the restroom. "Jacob, really?" I look at him as he posts himself up next to the bathroom door. "It's going to take forever for you to finish loading all the parts into the truck. Let me pee, grab what I need, and I'll be right down to help." He just stands against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Jake, I can't pee with you standing next to the door," I tell him and finally he gives up.

"if you aren't downstairs in five minutes, I won't fix the bike." He exclaims and walks down the stairs, slapping the top of the staircase.

I quickly dart out of the bathroom and into my room. I grab one of my old backpacks off the back of my door and go straight to the loose floorboard, I dump the shoe box into the bag and find anything I can to throw on top of them.

When Emmett stuffed my bag full of clothes he really didn't leave anything behind. So I stuffed an old bear that I hadn't touched in 5 years in there and ran back to the bathroom and grab all the feminine hygiene products I could find. If Jacob checked my bag, he'd stop as soon as he saw them.

I head back to my room and look around but don't see the case files anywhere. I hear Jacob counting downstairs. "1 minute left." He yells, and I run down the stairs. I open all the drawers and clothes but can't find them anywhere. Shit, he must have taken them with him. Jacob yells again, "Times up." I look down at the bag in my hand and hug it close to my chest. At least I was able to grab these.

The Car ride back to the reservation was all about bike safety and how I can't tell Billy he was teaching me how to ride. I asked him about Leah and his daughter Mary, I hadn't seen them since I'd been back on the reservation. He said he was doing his best not to have them in my face. I explained that it didn't matter, but he insisted that it did.


	6. Chapter 6

Please be warned this screen is rated M!

* * *

The next couple of days went by in a blur. Jacob made sure I got my hands dirty every day working on the bike. He said owning a bike was about more than riding it. Just like he taught me with the truck, he taught me everything I needed to know about the bike.

It was nice spending the days with Jacob, it was like I had my friend back. There was never any pressure for anything more. For the first time in a long time, I had someone to talk to, as long as no one mentioned Emmett, the Fangers, or James. The tension stayed pretty low.

I spent my nights curled up in the oversized chair in my room, staring out the window, rereading Emmett's letters. Wondering if he and Billy were safe. I hadn't heard any of the pack mention their whereabouts in a few days, and believe me, I did my best to listen in from wherever I was at.

There was a new letter added to the box. I didn't find it till two nights ago, but it's my new favorite. You can always tell the ones that I've read more than once because the cress lines are tearing.

 _ **"Bell God, to finally say your name after all this time of holding it in. It's like whispering a prayer. Once I knew it was you, I should have stopped writing, but I couldn't I was already into deep. I was already so wrapped up in you that I couldn't untangle myself if I tried."**  
_

I feel the room turning, moving, it's as if I'm floating, flying. The warmth of what was once next to me starts to pull away. Its scent is inviting, alluring and I want more of it. I do my best to pull it closer, but it's stronger than me.

"Do you have something against beds?" His raspy voice is close to my ear, I can feel his cool breath on against my skin, and I want more.

"Just when it comes to sleeping," I tell him, and I open my eyes, only to see him staring down at me from just above me. I've dreamed of seeing him above me like this so many times, and now that I have a clearer vision of him after all these years, it has only made the dreams more realistic.

He starts to pull away. "Wait," I reach for him my small hands grabbing two handfuls of the bicep and then t-shirt when he pulls away a little more. "Don't go."

He pulls away and stands next to the bed. "I'll be over there," he points to the oversized chair that sits in the window overlooking the river.

"When I was a kid, I was scared of everything," Emmett stops and looks down at me. "My mom would lay in bed with me every night until I fell asleep," I explain to him, there's no reason for me to do it, but I want him to understand. "After she passed, I never got used to falling asleep alone."

Emmett went to the chair, and my heart sank. We've been pretty good at talking to each other. I couldn't believe that he didn't say anything in return.

I watched him tug off his boots, one at a time and set them next to the chair. He took a few breathes and got up from the chair. "This bed's not exactly built for two, let alone a man my size," and he isn't wrong.

I scoot all the way over, and he sits on the bed. He doesn't get in, he just sits on the edge. "I read the letters you wrote me," he says. "I'm sorry I worried you," he's talking about the letters I continued to write him after he got out when I didn't know what had happened to him. "I wanted to call you when they released me."

"You're here now," I say to him, reaching for him.

"But I shouldn't be," and it's a slap in the face. "As long as I was locked away you were safe."

"I feel pretty safe," I tell him and I raise up to my knees and put my arms around him, touching my body against his entirely for the first time. His body is tense, I run my hands down his arms. I can feel every scar and tattoo beneath my fingers. He exhales again.

"You should get some sleep. You have a long day with Jacob tomorrow." His jaw and he closes his eyes tight as he says. So he knows I've been hanging around Jacob and it bothers him.

"I'd much rather have a long night with you," I whisper in his ear. Pressing my chest against his back, I reach my hands down to his. He doesn't open his eyes, and I know that there is no way that a man like this could possibly be nerves.

"Bell," he whispers.

"Please don't call me that right now," I bring my mouth as close to his ear as I can without touching it. "Bella, please," I insist he calls me Bella in this moment.

Emmett pulls my arm around his neck, and my whole body comes with it. He's off the bed, and I'm against the wall faster than a cat, chasing a rabbit. Both my hands are pinned above my head, and Emmett is staring down at me like he's the hungriest man on earth, and I'm the very last steak.

"14 years Bella," he says my name and my inside weep. "I've been inside for 14 years," he drops my shorts and my underwear all the way to the floor in one push. "Only your letters," one of his fingers caresses the outside of my lower lips, softly. "And the sound of your voice to keep me company for the last 4 years," he slowly pushes his middle finger inside of me. "Let's see how many of those nights you were doing what I asked." He pulls his finger out slowly and pushes it back into its full depth, no faster than before. "Talk to me Bella," he says. "I want to hear the arousal in your voice," but I can't say a word.

It's not the same as when I did it for him. I had control, I could listen to him talk and set the pace. He couldn't talk dirty to me, people were listening. I sink into his hand every time he pulls his finger away. "Talk to me Bella," He says again, but I just shake my head and bite down harder on my lip. This time when he pushes his finger in he doesn't pull back, he pumps his palm again and again against me. I plug down harder on his palm, I've never needed to climax and not wanted to peak so much in my life. My body was confused by what it wanted.

My hands are now free and doing everything they can to get his shirt off. He lets me tug it over his head but once it is off his mouth is on mine. He pulled his fingers away from me, and my wrist are once again wrapped in his hand and pulled above my head. "Pill?" He pulled his mouth from mine, just an inch. It seems to be a question he already knows the answer to, I'm sure he checked my medication cabinet.

I nod my head, "yes." Falls from my lips when his mouth moves to my neck. Emmett lifts my legs, wrapping them around his hips. I can feel the roughness of his jeans against my thighs and the coolness of his belt right under my ass. He tilts my hips just right before he thrust into me, hard and fast. The picture on the wall next to us falls, and my body wouldn't stop quivering. "Oh my god," I hoarsely yell as he thrust into me again.

I bit my lip remembering Jacob is in the next room, as he thrust into me again, doing whatever it takes to stay quiet. "If you hold it in, I'll pull it out," Emmett says, biting at my bottom lip until I release it and let out another whimper.

One of his hands still holds my hands tightly above my head, the other is under my back, holding me up well he impels. My legs are tightening around him, and I dig my nails into his hand. "No ones here," he whispers against my lips.

I didn't care at this point if he was lying or not, I couldn't hold it in.

"Oh my god..." it wasn't loud, it was a soft cry of relief. I never felt anything like what was going on right now in my body. Emmett finally releases my hands, grabbing my hair, he slowly pushes inside me. Every movement is making me vibrate more inside.

He pulls out of me, and I can feel him running down my thighs. He walks me to the bed and tosses me onto it, falling on top off me. I hear the bed crack, and I can't help but laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

warning this chapter contains strong adult content

* * *

The only thing that is comfortable with our current situation is Emmett's warm skin pressed against mine. The lower half of my bed lay broken on the floor, leaving us laying at a very awkward angle. We broke it the first time around without even trying. Emmett fixed it while I was attempting to freshening up. Only to break it again within minutes of our second time around.

I trace the outlines of his tattoos and scars. I already know most by heart and anything that's recent I know how he got it. Prison isn't easy, and Emmett has a lot of enemies and the ones that aren't his hate him just because of who he rides with.

I touch one low on his hip, close to his thigh. It's jagged and rough, the edges uneven. "My first week in," he says, and my fingers caress it again. "A Riffer wanted to make sure that I knew he was running the place."

The thought of him in that place when he didn't belong there breaks my heart. The things that he went through that he didn't have to, and for no reason. He places his hand over mine, stopping its motion.

"I'd do it all over again," he puts my hand in his and pulls it to his mouth. "To be right here, right now," Emmett kisses the tip of each of my fingers. "To know that it kept you safe," he draws my thumb into his mouth and slowly releases it. "I see the wheels turning in your head," he nips at my thumb pad. "Don't over think it, I'm not perfect. I deserved to be there," he bits a little harder.

I kiss my way down his chest, covering every scar I find. I pull my fingers from his hand and straddle his hips. I let my wet fingers dance over my now favorite scar. I'm in awe of what's placed in front of me.

Here lays a man who threw away his life to save the daughter of a man he thought to be a friend to his enemy, only to somehow be his friend.

Emmett thought that as long as he was in prison for my parent's murder, no one would go looking for James. He'd think he got away with it and I was safe. That was until 3 more bodies showed up in Seattle, 12 years after Emmett was incarcerated. They used DNA to match it to my parent's murder and got a match to James. Seattle does carry the death penalty, and if I testify, he's looking at death row if they ever find him.

"What?" Emmett asks me, his thumb not drawing circles over a scar on my knee.

"Why'd you do it? I ask him, trying to pull my leg over him, so we're in a less intimate position, but he holds me there. "I was a skinny 12-year-old girl. Please don't tell me you were into that?"

Emmett laughs, but it's not a whole-hearted laugh. I know his wife had just died right before that. "Your dad took the blame for something I did, and it cost him everything. I needed to repay the favor," his hands move up and down my skin like he's memorizing it, like it's the last time he's going to see it, touch it. "Maybe, this is a mistake," he says and sits up. I can see he's thinking about bolting now.

I put both hands on his chest and push him back down. We both know if he wanted to get up and leave he could, and there's nothing I could do to stop him. "Wait a second. Two minutes ago there was no place else you'd rather be. You wouldn't change anything. Now, this is a mistake? What changed just like that?" I'm confused and hurt, I don't understand what's happening.

He looks at me and then at my hands against his chest. "I was the one who shot Victoria," he says matter of factly.

I'm blown away. The police report said my dad shot her, that she pulled out a gun on him after she set up a drug bust. I sit back on my backside and fall away from Emmett. Why did my dad lie for him? He lost his badge for it. Why would Emmett shot his own wife? Was he the dealer they were meeting?

"I told you this was a mistake," Emmett says, and he's off the bed and pulling on his jeans. "I didn't kill your parents, but I'm still the reason they're not here," he shouts a little louder than necessary.

Emmett is pacing the room. "I was working as your dad's informant." I know he's still saying something, but my mind is flying to Victoria's police file. Everything in there said she was my dad's informant. Was it fake? Every photo in her folder had Emmett in it. There were no signed affidavits by her or video recordings. Nothing that proved she was an informant.

"The Nomads were drug runners when Victor's dad got popped. My pops thought we could finally patch them over by giving them legit businesses in Folks, but they just used them as fronts. When Victoria got busted your dad offered her a deal," Emmett drops down into the oversized chair. "When she refused to take it, I went to your dad with another deal," his head falls into his hands.

"I just wanted to save her," he says, and tears are running down my cheeks. "I told her I wanted in on her brother's deal. We set up the meet. When the police showed up to bust James, Victoria pulled out a gun on Charlie. His back was turned, he trusted me. He would have never seen it coming," Emmet reaches down for one of his boots. "I shot her right when before James came running in. Charlie shot at James, but he got away, and I ran," he tugs his boot on. "The next morning the paper read that Victoria was shot by the chief in a drug bust gone bad," he picks up the other boot and tugs it on.

"Are you trying to save me because you couldn't save her?" I need to know no matter how much it hurts.

"God no," Emmett is on his knees in front of me. "Don't you see? You've been saving me all this time. His hands are on my hips, and he's pulling me closer to him. "The night your patents died, the four years of letters, here and now."

I'm taken back by his word, his honesty. I've known Jacob my whole life, and he's never talked to me the way Emmett does.

"When did you know?" I ask Emmett.

"That I needed you? From the very first letter," he answers.

"No. When did you know it was me writing to you?" I clarify my question.

His hand runs from my hip. His fingers sliding against my bare skin until they reach the scar on my knee. He rubs his thumb against it. "When I wrote to you about the time I crashed my bike." He leans forward and softly kisses the scar on my knee. "You wrote back telling me about the time you crashed yours," he puts his chin in my lap and stares up at me. "I was with Charlie when he got the call that you had been hit by the car. All I can remember him saying into the phone was, Bell, Bell, Bell. He was so worried about you. He couldn't get to you fast enough."

That was like our 9th or 10th letter. "You knew for the whole 4 years?" How could he have still written to me?

"Yes," he smiles like the cat that ate the canary, and he lowers his mouth to my knee and kisses it again.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask him. He just raises his nudges his shoulders up and down. I know there would have been no easy way to bring it up, but I'm afraid if I stop talking he'll stop doing what he's doing. "Were you mad?" My voice squeals a little as his lips reach my inner thigh.

"I had to do some math before I sent the next letter," he states, and his mouth moves higher. I open my legs just an inch more. "I still think you might be too young for me," his breath tickles me in all the right spots, and I whimper

"There you go," Emmett replies and slides his fingers between my legs. I fall back on the bed and hang on to whatever I can find, as not to shove Emmett's head between my legs. His tongue laps at me slowly, and his fingers fill me one then two at a time. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed, his bread brushing against every spot that his tongue can't reach. When he bits down on my lips, I lift off the bed, only to have him pull me in closer and do it again. I'm coming apart, but it's not enough I need more of him.

With every ounce of strength I have, I'm up and pushing Emmett onto his backside. I'm sure he's not fighting me, but my body is shaking, and every ounce of me is spent. He takes my mouth softly with his, testing it. I can taste myself on him, and he wants to make sure I'm okay with it. I let my tongue explore his mouth, savoring myself mixed along with mine, and work to once again remove his pants.

My hand touches him, and he flips me onto my back. My hands are locked above my head, and Emmett is removing what is left of his clothes. He positions himself just outside my entrance and slowly enters me. "Fuck Bella," he breathes against my cheek. "I thought this time would be easier," he says, and pulls my arms down closers to my head, my body arches up and Emmett takes one breast in his mouth and then the other, bitting down softly before releasing it.

He releases my hands, leans back. I watch him in amazement as he slowly pulls out and pushes back into me, watching every stroke as he enters me now. He reaches for the back of my neck, and he yanks me up to him, pushing as far into me as he can go. I let out a loud moan, and he covers his mouth with mine. "I'm sorry Bella," he says against my open mouth, and he rocks into me again, harder this time. I cry out again. He rocks into even harder, pulling the edges of my hair, pulling my mouth away from his. "Fuck I'm sorry Bella," he says, and he starts to slow down his punishment.

"God, please don't stop." I tilt my pelvis towards him, my chest up and expose even more of myself to him. I've never felt this way.

Emmett's mouth is licking the empty spot between my breast, his teeth graze against my skin. He pushes into me again and again and again. My inside quiver non stop and Emmet holds very still inside me, pushing as deep as he can go. All I can think about is the loss I'll feel when he removes himself.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't know what time it was when I finally fell asleep, but I see the sun was already coming up, and now I can feel Emmett's lips against the back sides of my legs. "Bella if you don't get up I'm going to be forced to defile you again," he whispers against my skin.

I don't know what world he's living in, but if he thinks, that's going to make me move from this makeshift bed. He's wrong. "Come on Bell, I need food," right there, he said the magic word. I was starving.

I rolled over onto my back, pulling the covers with me. "You know I'm not going to cook you breakfast, right?" I ask him.

"I've seen what you consider eatable food. I'd rather eat prison food," Emmett says laughing. He tugs my blankets away. "Shower now, let's go."

Shower, that meant he was taking out, off the reservation. I hadn't even asked what was going on with James. I learned that here on the res, no one would tell me anything, so I stopped asking. I stood up from the bed that now lays on the floor, stretched and crack every bone in my body that I could. I wasn't going to lie, every inch of me hurt.

"Is it okay for me to leave the reservation now?" I ask Emmett making my way to the shower.

"Jacob took you off the reservation. You're just as safe with me as you were with him," his comment a little snapping than I'm used to and gone is the joy that was covering his face just minutes ago.

I turn on the shower and jump in. Emmett was fully dressed when he woke me up. So I know he won't be joining me, and I was kind of hoping he wouldn't hear my next comment all the way from the next room., and I didn't even say it that loud. "You sure seem to know a lot about what Jacob and I are doing considering I haven't seen or heard from you in over two weeks."

"The pack aren't the only ones watching over you while I'm gone." I open the shower curtain, and Emmett is in the doorway, taking up all of its tiny space.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean," I start to say before Emmett cuts me off.

"Don't ever apologize to me or anyone for speaking your mind," he looks down at the floor, shakes his head, turns, and exits the small bathroom.

I couldn't help but feel like I upset him more by saying I'm sorry than I did with my comment about him watching Jacob and me.

I quickly, finish up in the shower, towel dry my hair and get dressed. When I return to the bedroom, Emmett's not there. "Emmett!" I yell through the tiny house, but I can't find him anywhere.

When I open the front door, I see him sitting on the most amazing looking all black Indian Scout. This is not Billy's bike, and I'm guessing he went and picked her up. "She's beautiful," I tell Emmett, making my way towards the two of them, he wrote me about his bike lots of times. Also talking about how she was the one thing he missed most about the outside. It looks like his brothers took good care of her.

Emmett reaches his hand out, gliding it under my hair. "She's nothing compared to you," he says, and he kisses me softly. I've known a lot of bikers, and I think they all love their bikes more than their wives, club, and money.

He takes out a helmet from the side saddle and puts it on my head. I reach for the strap, and he bats my hand away. "I can put it on myself, I've been riding on the back of bikes since I could walk," I tell Emmett, but he just laughs.

"But you're not riding in back," he slides back just a bite in the seat and pats the small space in front of him. "You're driving." I know my face lite up like a little girl. When I was a kid, my dad would put me in front of him, and let me drive up and down the street. He was always the one in control, but it was the greatest joy of my childhood.

"You're going to let me drive your baby?" I ask him, jumping up and down.

"Yep, come on before I change my mind." I put my right foot on the front footrest and throw my left foot over.

Emmett tucks in closer to me, and I can't believe how good it is to have him wrapped around me. "I've never road bitch before," he whispers against my neck, his lips leaving a trail up to my ear. "I think I actually like it," he continues.

I put my hands on the handles, "Clutch, throttle, turn signal."

Emmett puts his hand on top of mine just as my dad did when I was little. "I've got you. Start her up. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't do it."

I push the red button, and she rumbles to life under me. I honestly want to turn around in my seat and rip every piece of Emmett's clothes off and have him do everything he did to me last night all over again, under the rumble of his baby.

"If you don't feed me none of that will happen," Emmett bites my ear. I guess all those phone calls really did teach him a lot about me and my body.

With my hands tucked in next to Emmett's, his body wrapped around me like armor, we drive into town at a nice relaxing pace. It feels so amazing. Now I know why the guys love riding so much and can do it for days and hours at a time. You really miss the experience of it when you're tucked in behind someone.

It surprises when we pull into Izzy's, and not one person flinches at me walking in with Emmett. Jessica greets us and asks Emmett if he'll have his usual. If anything she's thumbing her nose down at me like he's too good for me. I give her my order, but she doesn't seem too interested in it.

"Your usual?" I ask him once she walks out of ears distance. I'm not sure what I'm more upset by, the fact that she was drooling all over him right in front of me, and that he wasn't bothered by it, or the fact that everyone else in this town seems to have seen him more than I have.

"I have to eat," he says, and he's laughing at me I know he is. He can see it written all over my face that I'm pissed.

"How often do you come in here?" I look around the room at all the regulars and not one of them is surprised by him being here or even out of prison.

"Everyday since I got out," he takes a big gulp of his water. "When I'm in town. I was gone with Billy chasing a lead for a couple of days." He says, and that's the first I've heard about anything that's going on.

Two giggling waitresses come over carrying our food. They put out plates down, but both of their eyes are on Emmett. "Nice to see you back in town," the small brunette with the glasses says. Her name tag says Allison, but I've never seen her before.

"Only for the day," he says. "How do you like it here? You get all moved in?" This is my biggest problem. I always accused Jacob of doing everything under the sun. It not easy when girls are always throwing themselves at them. This was even harder to take because I felt like he was hiding from me, and the rest of the world got to see him. I was used to it being the other way around.

I held up my plate to the girl that was quietly standing behind Allison, as Emmett or her gabbed about how much work unpacking was. "This isn't my order," I tell her and she looks at me surprised like she didn't know what to do with it. It wasn't even close to what I ordered and right now even if it was, I completely lost my appetite.

My phone beeped, and I quickly checked it, anything to avoid what was taking place in front of me. However, I didn't have any messages. It beeped again, and Emmett told Allison he'd catch up with her later. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the messages.

I don't know if it was the women, finding out he hasn't been hiding in dark corners for the last month or what. But I lost it. I pushed myself up from the table and walked out of the restaurant. From the corner of my eye I can see Emmett stand and throw some money on the table, and he stops and kisses Allison on the cheek.

I don't stop at the bike, I just keep walking towards the station. I figure I can get one of the officers to give me a ride home. I wasn't going back to the reservation either. I'm done with all of this.

"Are you at least going to tell me why you're mad?" Emmett's voice is low, he's pretty far behind me but it carries, and he's not shouting at me. I hear his phone beep again.

"What the fuck is that?" I yell at him, marching back towards him.

"I believe it called a phone, Bell." He replies and slides the phone back into his pocket.

"I know it's a phone. How long have you had it, and I swear if you say since you got out…."

"Five weeks or so," he says laughing, and I don't think it's funny.

"How could you have that and not…" I stop. I don't know why I'm upset. We've been writing each other for four years. In those four years, I dated Jacob multiple times. We never once said we were together. Never once did he say he loved me. Even now, there's nothing that says he's mine.

His phone beeps again. "Bell, we have to go." He closes the gap between us. "They're bringing Billy home…."

"What do you mean they're bringing Billy home?" I shout at him. "Why didn't Billy come home with you? Why can't Billy bring himself home?"

Emmett wraps my hands in his. "There was an accident while we were on the road. "What? Is Billy ok?" billy was the closest thing to a father I'd had since my father passed. He might not have been the strictest father in the world, but he did the best he could.

"Billy will be ok. He was shot in the hip." Emmett proceeds to tell me.

"What the fuck!" I shout, "getting shot is not an accident."

"Well, he was on his bike, and his bike went down after." Emmett squeezes me hands tighter. "He's going to be fine, I promise you."

"How could you not tell me?" I pull away from him and head back to his bike. All I want to do is get back to my family.

"It was part of the agreement I made with Billy and the pack to be allowed on tribal land. For me to stay and watch you, I couldn't tell you what was going on."

"You were my babysitter." I jump on the back of the bike and put the helmet on. "I don't hear from you for almost 2 weeks, and the only reason I get to see you is that it was your turn to babysit me." I'm mad that he wasn't there because he missed me. I feel like our night together only happen to keep him from the question of where Jacob and everyone was. "I can't believe that was Billy's ultimatum, not for you to keep your hands to yourself." Because that would have saved me a whole lot of heartache, I could handle Billy getting shot a lot better than I'm handling this.

"That was Jacob's…" Emmett says once he brings the bike to life, hoping I wouldn't hear it over the loud roar.

"Shit Jacob. He must be a mess," I mutter under my breath, but I'm sure he heard me because the remainder of the ride was silent.


End file.
